


city nights

by soju_bluess



Category: Thai Actor RPF, เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Bay Area Tech AU, Clubbing, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, but like lowkey, i use fuck a lot, no beta bc who has friends, no sex bc i don't know how to write it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soju_bluess/pseuds/soju_bluess
Summary: Inspired by Gulf Bringing Sexy Back.Mild, and Gulf go clubbing. Gulf is an ex-frat boy. Mew is working late. And everyone is really really drunk.No intended reference to the horrible place that is city nights (if you know, you know). Any similarities are completely coincidental and unintentional.
Relationships: Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	city nights

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't let Gulf's cheeky "Phi is working late" on day 1 of his cruise and here we are.

“You sure this is okay?” Mild yelled, catching Gulf by the arm. 

They’d been out for a couple hours now, and everyone was more than a little sloppy. The second round of tequila shots at their third club hitting a little different and a little harder now that the clock was nearing one in the morning. 

Gulf turned to him, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed from the heat of the club, hair mused from hours of dancing. He had that crazy carefree look in his eye, and that dazzling smile that had led to so many bad decisions during their college days. 

Man was absolutely fucking plastered. A far cry from the cute little UX designer Mild had picked up from an excruciatingly priced SOMA apartment that evening. 

Gulf grinned. “Mew’s probably working till late anyway,” he yelled over the thumping music slipping right out of Mild’s hold. 

Mild must’ve been absolutely plastered too considering he let Gulf get pulled on to stage by two scantily clothed girls. Mew was going to kill him. 

He quickly surveyed the area for his friends. Everyone was drunk, everyone was so fucking drunk. Ja and First were making out in a corner. They had lost their precious intern Becky somewhere between the first and second club. Tong was harassing anyone that would listen with pictures of his son from his stool at the bar. Boat had taken one look at their little group and peaced out after dinner -- fucker had gotten off easy this time. 

His eyes came back to Gulf. In the short time he’d been distracted making sure their friends were still alive, Gulf’s white button down had been unbuttoned down to his navel and his hair was even more fucked up. The girls were flanking him, body rolling on to him on each side. Mew was going to kill him. 

Gulf or Mild? Mild didn’t know yet. The wild banshee screams that overtook Justin Timberlake’s cooning took Mild out of his downward spiral of dread. 

His neck snapped up on to the stage.   
  
_ You see these shackles, baby, I'm your slave (Uh-huh) _

_ I'll let you whip me if I misbehave (Uh-huh) _

Gulf…  _ Gulf _ . Fresh face, Patagonia wearing, backpack hauling, office golden boy  _ Gulf _ was hip thrusting on stage. Hip thrusting. 

Mild did what any best friend would do. He threw back his beer, took out his phone, and hit record. This moment must live in prosperity. 

-

Gulf was plastered. He was gone the moment he threw back his sixth shot of tequila and chased it down with whatever shitty beer had been shove in his hand by Ja. 

He wasn’t sloppy by any means, he wasn’t passing a field sobriety test any time soon, but he wasn’t sloppy. He was just drunk. That exhilarating, hazy, head in the clouds type drunk he hadn’t been since his college days. Which wasn’t long ago, to be completely honest. 

He’d graduated two years ago with a job at a promising fintech start up. He liked his job. He loved his coworkers, but there was something about  _ working _ that made him feel like his life was passing him by at two times speed. 

Gulf chuckled into his beer. He just missed being a little messy, if he was honest. Just, being irresponsible, knowing he was being irresponsible, and the high of his action having little to no consequences.

He missed his blackout drunk days at the TKE house. He missed the ragers, and the raves, and the rolling into lecture just a little drunk. He missed Mew fucking him in the bathroom of a house party when he’d visit him on campus.    
  
God. Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat. What a man, and all his too. They’d discovered Gulf liked the burn of being stretched pretty early on in their relationship, and it’d all been uphill from there. Gulf would stretch himself out when he’d know Mew would be able to stop by one of his frat’s parties. He’d use a stupid amount of lube and make sure it dripped a little down the cleft of his ass.

Mew would get there fashionably late as always and play catch up with Gulf and Mild. It’d take exactly three shots, one beer, and Gulf sucking on Mew’s neck to get Mew to push him into the nearing bathroom and slam into him. The burn and the squelch of the lube were something else. He’d go crazy for Mew’s cock any day. It was so big and thick and the pulsing vein leading up to soft slick head made Gulf drool just thinking about it. But there was something about getting fucked against a bathroom door, in the middle of a party with 200 of his closest friends that made his blood boil. 

He tongued the rim of his beer bottle. His dick pulsed a little at the thought of Mew’s cock. If only he was choking on Mew’s thick dick instead of licking at his beer bottle.

Gulf was pulled out of his retrieve by two girls. They were both around his age, tight black dressed hugging every curve on their body. They were hot, one blonde and one brunette with pretty lips and hips. 

A few years back, they’d be his type. Now he had something broader, firmer, and male waiting for him at home.    


The burnette smiled at him, “Wanna dance? You’ve been looking kinda lonely over here.” 

Had he? Gulf let out a soft laugh and looked around for Mild who’d been next to him just a minute ago. He spotted him a couple feet away looking a little dazed over, and clutching his beer as if it was the only thing keeping him standing.    
  
Gulf shrugged, “Sure, lead the way.” The girls grinned and pulled him towards the crowd. 

Mild grabbed at him as he was getting pulled passed. “You sure this is okay?” he yelled. 

Gulf grinned. “Mew’s probably working till late anyway,” he yelled back pulling himself out off Mild’s hold. 

Mild was everyone’s keeper for the night. He was supposed to get everyone in their Ubers at the end of the night, and hand deliver Gulf to Mew. 

He got pushed and tumbled by the crowd, hot bodies pressing against him but the girls’ vice grip on his wrists didn’t let go. Next thing he knows, they’re yanking his shirt open and pulling him on stage. 

He let out an euphoric laugh as he heard the beginning beats of Justin Timberlake’s Bringing Sexy Back. There was something about the blinding lights and the screams hyping them up that made him both giddy and made him feel high. He briefly wondered if the brownies at the hippie dippy restaurant Tong had taken them to were actually pot brownies. 

The girls started undulating next to him making the crowd below them go wild. Gulf, not wanting to be out done, started thrusting into the air making sure to roll his body just so. He felt a little hot and a little silly, and he saw Mild recording him from a corner like the fucker he was. 

Gulf grinned, if Mild was going to film him, he might as well give him a little show. He thrusted a little harder, pulled his shirt just so making sure everyone got a good look at his chest, and when he bit his lip he looked straight at Mild’s phone. The crowded got louder below him. Gulf knew he was hot, but the lights and the screams just got him a little bit riled up. He wished Mew was her to drag him off the stage and let Gulf choke on his dick in the back. 

As the lats beats of the song rang and an EDM beat started to take over, Gulf walks off stage with the two girls on his arm. Being on stage has sobered him up a bit, just a little bit. He’s still a bit unsteady on his feet and a lot hazy in the head. The girls on his side serving as both support and making him look like a raging fuckboy sweaty mess, rumpled shirt and all. 

If the people around him only knew that he goes home to his hot, rich, CEO boyfriend every night, and cuddle the shit out of Chopper while watching horrible Netflix romcoms. 

He gets pulled away from the girls and the pulsing crowd by Mild, and loses sight on them. 

“Okay, Magic Mike,” Mild’s laughing at him, eyes little crescent moons. He’s pulling him through the crowd by the wrist making sure he’s following and doesn’t get kidnapped by random girls. The firm grip on his wrist tells Gulf Mild has sobered up enough to know how to get out of the club, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Mild pulls Gulf up the stairs and out the door. The cold hair hits his heated skin, and the haze in his haze lifts a little more. Mild props him up against the cool brick of the club walls, Gulf immediately regrets the thin white button up he’d stolen from Mew’s closet on his way out this afternoon. 

“Stay here while I drag Tong out,” Mild says hand out as if he was afraid Gulf would tumble over as soon as he took his hands off of him. How offensive, he wasn’t that drunk. 

“What happened to Ja and First?” Gulf mumbled out patting his pockets to make sure his wallet and phone were still there. You never fucking know in packed clubs. 

“Probably fucking in a bathroom at this point,” Mild says. “I haven’t seen them in a while, but I’m not about to search for them at this point” 

Gulf hums, “I thought they weren’t doing that anymore?” 

“Doing what? Fucking?” Mild chortles and roll his eyes. He’s looking down at his phone. “Sure, like those can keep it in their pants once they get tequila in their system.” 

“Alright, you stay here and I’ll go try to find Tong.” Mild says heading back into the club. “Fucker’s not answering his phone.” 

Gulf shrugs, it’s not like he can really go anywhere. Sure, his buzz is wearing off, he’s cold, and shit but he wouldn’t worry Mild like that. For his goofy and loud personality, Mild is a momma bird through and through, 

Gulf checks his phone. He’s been off it all day between dinner and drinks and clubbing, it was honestly for the best. He’s smashed enough phone screens during night outs to know that he should keep his phone in his pocket on nights out. 

He’s scrolling through his notifications. It’s closer to two in the morning now, and he skips straight to Mew’s text. OOF. He can’t wait to get home and get in bed with his hot ass man. Maybe he could coax Mew into fucking him to sleep while he’s still a little fucked up. 

Fuck, tonight was going to end with a bang. 


End file.
